


Love Hath All the Rites

by Miss_ro



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fix-It, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sidney Parker is a bit of a sex god, Tom Parker grovels, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_ro/pseuds/Miss_ro
Summary: This can be read as sort of a continuation of my other fic on this site. Or by itself. It has lemons in it. Like a whole lemonade stand worth. Hence the rating. The title is from Shakespeare.





	1. The Engagement

At Willingden, she flew out of the carriage and into a dozen different extended arms. Her closest-in-age, most beloved sister, Alison, squealed and jumped on one spot, then threw her arms about Charlotte. 

“Is this him—is this him?!” she whispered into Charlotte’s ear, bubbling with excitement, jerking her chin at Sidney, who had dismounted and was handing his horse’s reins to the Heywoods’ groom. Charlotte nodded against her cheek, then stood back to curtsey to her parents. 

“Papa,” she said. “This gentleman is Mr. Sidney Parker. He — ah — he wishes to speak to you about a matter of importance?” She had not meant for her voice to rise at the end, as if asking a question, as if she were so uncertain about him. But Sidney only bowed gracefully to both her parents and said, with a small smile: 

“Indeed, Mr. Heywood, I do.” 

There would be no question in anyone’s mind what that matter of importance was meant to be. Mr. Heywood gave Charlotte a bemused look before he walked Sidney inside with a polite nod. Everyone followed the two men in a great gaggle, laughing and whispering and asking Charlotte questions about her summer. She answered them as best she could, her attention monopolized by the sight of her father’s closed study door. 

It opened, and her eyes flew to Sidney’s face, at once. He gave her another one of his small, tight-lipped smiles and ducked his head. 

“Charlotte, my dear, will you not come in?” 

She walked into her father’s study, knees trembling. 

“Well, well,” Mr Heywood said, taking his seat behind the wide, paper-strewn desk. “I take it you had an eventful summer?” 

“Papa,” she admonished. “What happened? You have not refused him?”

“No,” Mr Heywood said, looking up at her with a small frown. “But I confess I was a little put off by the story he told me—he had been affianced to another lady so very recently, and it appears, with the most mercenary of motives.” 

“Quite the opposite, sir,” she said, flushing. “Mr Parker is the farthest thing from mercenary. He was hoping that the lady would invest her money in Sanditon and thus rescue his brother — the elder Mr Parker, whom you have met — from the debtor’s prison.” 

“But — “ 

“But he did not think it fair to her, and so he told her the truth — that he loved not her, but me.”

“Charlotte,” her Father said. “I do not know what to think of all this! Had you had an understanding before he proposed to this other lady?” 

Charlotte felt herself color. “Not as such,” she said. “He had led me to understand that he preferred my company to all others, and I—“ She broke off, thinking of their first kiss atop that cliff, of Sidney’s tortured confession to her on the day of his return from London. It hurt to speak of it even now. “I confess I was quite heart-broken when I thought Mr Parker was to marry someone else.” 

Mr Heywood frowned at her. As he often did in moments of unhappiness or confusion, he opened his snuffbox and took some snuff. “It is as he told me. And you have forgiven him for such inconstancy?” 

“Papa!” Charlotte protested. “He is anything but inconstant!” 

She told him about Sidney’s efforts, both honorable and brave, to rescue Georgiana, and his careful stewardship of her enormous fortune — merely because he had made a promise to her late father. How he had been willing to sacrifice himself to a lifetime of unhappiness to rescue his brother’s family from destitution. 

“Your young man seems to have been honest with me,” Mr Heywood said. “If he had led you to believe he was in love with you, and was then obliged to make an offer to another, I am not a little impressed that he has told me of it. It does not paint him in the best light, whatever you may say.” 

“He was trying to save his brother!” 

“Odd way to go about it.” Mr Heywood hemmed a little. “Marriage! And to a lady who had done the same to him all those years ago—there can’t have been any tender feeling there.” 

“Listen,” Charlotte said in exasperation. “He did hurt me, dreadfully. But I do not believe it was from inconstancy, or any deficiency of heart or spirit. Perhaps it was a terrible idea, but his intentions were most noble. I loved him then — and I love him still. Will you give us your blessing?” 

“I already have,” Mr Heywood said, and opened his arms to her. She rushed forward and kissed him on the cheek. “He tells me he has four thousand a year in careful investments. No estate just yet, but he swears that you will want for nothing.” He sighed. “It appears I am to break my own rule and travel more than five miles away from Willingden. I am to go to London to discuss your settlement, my dear. If everything he told me today proves true, you can marry the fellow. ” 

Charlotte beamed at him. 

“Oh, Papa,” she said. “It will -- I know it will.” 

They returned together to the drawing-room, where Sidney was being entertained, politely, yet awkwardly, by the ladies of the family. 

“My dear,” Mr. Heywood said to his lady, “I do believe that you shall soon have a wedding to plan.”

There was much squealing and applause and jubilation, and both of them were hugged and kissed on the cheeks by her exuberant family. Charlotte stood, a bit shocked at the change her life had undergone in less than a single day -- only this morning, she had left Sanditon in the most miserable spirits -- accepting their embraces and kisses, but looking at Sidney all the while over their heads. He held her gaze, grave, and she read the deepest emotion in his eyes. 

He stayed for supper and proved pleasant company to her Father; but between the two of them, they had very little opportunity to speak. As he was taking his leave, the entire Heywood clan followed him outside. Charlotte threw a pleading glance at her mother, who immediately hustled the children inside, leaving the two of them outside alone, but not before telling her, with mock sternness, to come inside straight away. 

“I shall, mama!” Charlotte called over her shoulder. She turned to Sidney -- finally, they were alone. “Well,” she said, squeezing her hands together. She was quite desperate to be kissed again, and he caught her eye and laughed quietly. 

“Charlotte,” he said, taking her hands in his as he had done before. “My dear girl, I wish most ardently that I could kiss you. But I wager that even now all your sisters are glued to the windows.” 

“I know,” she groaned, squeezing his fingers. “There is little privacy to be had at this house.” 

He stepped closer, leaning over her, taking her breath away a little. “The sooner we are wed,” he said in a heated whisper, “the sooner we will have all the privacy we desire.” 

She sucked in a breath at the low rumble in his voice. “Oh, Sidney,” she murmured, stricken. 

Still holding her hands, he moved back a fraction and said, formally: 

“Miss Heywood, may I call on you tomorrow morning? I am for London to meet with my solicitor, but I should like to see you before I go.” 

He was to spend the night at a local inn, one of the house servants already sent ahead to bespeak a room for him. She nodded, and he brought her right hand to his lips, bowing low. Just then, the groom brought his horse around. Charlotte stood on the threshold, watching him ride off. Then, she squared her shoulders and went back into the house, prepared to answer a million questions. 

In the morning, Sidney was as good as his word, calling at Willingden as early as was politic, and asking to be shown around the small estate. 

“I shall go with you,” Alison said, grinning, “and be your chaperone.” 

Three more siblings clamored to join them, and for a moment, Sidney looked despaired of catching a private moment with his betrothed; but here, Mrs. Heywood stepped in and told the three firmly that they had lessons which needed attending. 

The three of them set out; but very soon, Alison fell hopelessly behind. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Charlotte saw her sister turn down a side lane, as if she was not at all aware that the two of them had walked on. She felt a swell of gratitude and tenderness towards her sister. 

“We seem to have lost our chaperone,” Sidney said, face entirely straight. 

“Misplaced her,” Charlotte agreed, biting her lip, looking at him from under her eyelashes. He did not misapprehend her; and in the next moment, she found herself enveloped in his embrace, and with his lips on hers. The kiss went on for a long time, and when it was over, and he pulled away from her, breathing heavily, Charlotte found that standing was quite beyond her. She clasped her betrothed’s lapels, blinking up at him, dazed. Sidney stroked her cheek, smiling. 

“Are you all right?” he inquired, and she could only nod, slip her hand into his hair and pull him down for another kiss. This time, her boldness had an unmistakable effect on him, and he hauled her off her feet and pressed her against the nearest tree. Charlotte gasped, overwhelmed by his immediate closeness, the strength and weight of his body against hers, somehow both concealed and amplified by his heavy coat. She slid one hand down to his nape, touching the warm bare skin above his stock, and he groaned against her lips, the sound making her warm in all the wrong places.

Their embrace was interrupted, rather prosaically, by discordant chattering, and a single acorn flying out of the thick oak above them and striking Sidney clear on the forehead. 

“Ow!” Looking up, his arms still about Charlotte, he said: “Oh, I see him.” 

“Whom?” She twisted, staring up, but seeing only the dense, still-green tree crown. 

“Your other chaperone.” Sidney pointed above them. “That squirrel -- right there. I think the nut that hit me belonged to him.” 

To Charlotte’s unbridled merriment -- could it be that less than twenty-four hours ago, she had been so utterly heartbroken? -- he ducked his head at the tree crown. 

“Hello there,” he called out. But the falling acorn had had the effect of bringing them back to earth a bit -- indeed, chaperone or no chaperone, it would do nothing for Charlotte’s reputation if a passerby chanced upon them kissing, pressed against a tree trunk. WIth some regret, they untangled and walked on, quietly, holding hands. 

“I shall meet your Father in London at the end of the week,” Sidney said. “I have already written to my solicitor.” 

She colored. “I must tell you that I care very little about these things.” 

“I know that,” he allowed. “That is why you have your Father and me to look out for your best interests.” He gave her a narrow, searching look. “Charlotte,” he said seriously. “I should like us to be married sooner rather than later.” 

“In that, we are in complete agreement,” she said, linking her arm through his. “Let me see whether I can work on mama.” 

Before turning down the lane that presumably contained her sister, Sidney once again took Charlotte in his arms and kissed her, thoroughly and lingeringly. 

“Charlotte,” he murmured against her lips, as if he could not help saying her name again and again. “I shall be back before you know me gone.” 

She shifted uncomfortably, remembering, quite against her will, their last hopeful parting -- and the terrible reunion that followed. He must have sensed her unease because he said: 

“Please. You must put your trust in me. We shall be married.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Work on your mother to allow us a short engagement.” 

Just then, a loud cough behind them alerted them to Alison’s arrival. 

“Well, hello,” her sister said cheerily. “I seem to have forgotten all about being a chaperone. How silly of me.” 

“We were very proper,” Sidney said, stepping away from Charlotte. “And in any case, we had a replacement chaperone.” 

Her heart lifting a little, Charlotte told her sister about the squirrel and his acorn; laughing, the three of them returned to the house. Soon, Sidney was gone; Charlotte stood in the courtyard, waving and fighting the uneasy, hollow feeling in her breast. 

Mr. Heywood followed Sidney to London to discuss the settlements. He came back a week later, encouraged and impressed. Everything, he said, was done quite properly; as Mrs. Parker, Charlotte would be handsomely provided for. Sidney was not as wealthy as his friends; but, with reasonable management, they would want or lack for nothing. Charlotte was incandescently happy, the last obstacle to her marriage removed.

Letters arrived: triumphant one from Lady Worcester in London, jubilant ones from Georgiana and Mary in Sanditon. The latter, with her usual perspicacity, guessing at Charlotte’s earlier worries, wrote _be not uneasy, my dear, on the score of his devotion to you; he has attempted to do what he thought was the noble thing, and the mere taste of life without you has scared and scarred him so much, I believe he will never think in this direction again._

Another letter gave her pause. She had opened it with some trepidation upon seeing the elegant hand. She had never seen it before, but now, all of a sudden, could not but guess to whom it belonged. 

_My dear Miss Heywood, _

_I am certain that by now you have been appraised that my engagement to Mr Parker is at an end. I do not blame you for it, although were you my younger sister, I should have warned you off him. He is a handsome fellow, but stubborn and does not take instruction well. I wish you joy of him. _

_Eliza Campion._

Charlotte wondered what had possessed the lady to write such a letter; simple spite, perhaps, hurt feelings, anger? For the first time, she gave some thought to whether Mrs. Campion had truly loved Sidney. She burned the letter in the grate. 

Another letter, a tender one from London, from Sidney himself, telling her how he longed to be near her again. She wrote back with the news that they would be married some five weeks hence, just after Michaelmas. She was able to convince her mother that a quick wedding was necessary as Sidney must be present in Sanditon at all times to supervise the rebuilding of the Terrace. Mrs. Heywood had given her oldest daughter a narrow-eyed, assessing look. 

“Is that _all_ the reason for such haste, Miss?”

“Oh mama!” Charlotte cried, scandalized, feeling her face go up in blotches of color. “Yes, indeed it is! I shall pretend not to understand your intimation.” 

Mr. Heywood sighed. “You shall have to settle for a more paltry trousseau, then,” she said. 

But Charlotte assured her that this was, indeed, a sacrifice she was most willing to make.

“Mama, I have lost him once,” she said quietly. “I will not be easy until I am his wife.” 

Her mother frowned at her underneath her lace cap. “Are you so uncertain of his affections?”

“Never,” Charlotte said fervently. “But if anything, I know now that the _world_ is uncertain. _Homo proponit, sed Deus disponit_, you know.” 

Sidney came back to Willingden two weeks hence. It took all of Charlotte’s self-control not to throw herself into his embrace. Instead, she behaved with great dignity, letting him raise her hand to his lips, murmuring _Mr. Parker_. But later, after supper, when they unexpectedly found themselves alone in a darkened hallway—Alison really did make the most cursory chaperone—she turned to say something to him, and there he was, towering over her, radiating warmth. With a little sob, Charlotte fell into his embrace, lifted her face to be kissed; he obliged with great enthusiasm and passion.

“I missed you,” he whispered in the pause between more kisses. “God how I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” Charlotte replied, slipping her arms about his neck; his own went around her, his hands stroking, lightly, down the middle of her back. His fingers traced the line of buttons on her dress and she could not contain a shiver.

Sidney pulled away from her, gazed down into her overheated face. “How did I ever contemplate living this life without you!” 

“Stop -- don’t -- “ She wound her hands in his hair, bringing him closer. “Only dwell on the past if it brings you pleasure.” 

She felt him smile against her lips. 

“I have long been of the opinion,” he said, his warm touch slipping down her back, stopping at her waist, “that you are the wisest lady of my acquaintance.” 

She laughed at that, and he whispered: “No, no, I am serious,” but then he, too, was laughing. Then, grave again, kissing her again, gently parting her lips with his, and rather unexpectedly to her, the feeling of his tongue stroking just inside. She shivered and pulled off a bit, gazing at him in confusion. Had he meant to do that? 

“Have I discomfited you?” he asked. 

“A little,” Charlotte admitted. Sidney ducked his head, embarrassment written on his features. 

“I apologize, I should keep a greater hold on myself. It is only that you are infinitely temping.” 

She opened her mouth to tell him that she would not have him apologize; that her discomfiture stemmed not from his small liberty, but from the way it had ignited something within her, a new and glowing light warming her up from within, a sweet, tingling heaviness in limbs, her heart, below her belly-button. That she wished, most desperately, that he should do it again. 

Just then, her sister poked her head out of the drawing-room. 

“Mama is looking for you, Charlotte.” She arched one eyebrow at Sidney. “And papa would like to know whether _you_ would take brandy with him in the library.” 

Over the next three weeks, the banns were cried in two parishes. Sidney left and returned several times, clearly torn between the business of rebuilding Sanditon and Charlotte’s company. With his every return, they stole little bits of time and privacy for themselves, often with Alison’s help and her mother’s tacit permission. Charlotte was kissed thoroughly, and quickly learned this strange way of kissing him back with their tongues battling and stroking. Very quickly, she came to the realization of her own power over him; the way his body felt when pressed against hers, the way he sometimes moaned against her lips, as if unable to help himself, the way a simple press of her lips below his ear could drive him to distraction. One or twice, as they stood pressed close together, his hand slipped up her body to cup her breast; at that, Charlotte surprised herself by wanting only to press her flesh closer against his fingers. On the first such occasion, in her mother’s still-room, his face flooded with color and he backed off immediately, stepping away from her. 

“Charlotte,” he mumbled, looking thoroughly mortified. “Please forgive me. I mustn’t--” 

“Why not?” she asked, quietly. He looked up at her, all manner of emotion written upon his countenance. “Why not, Sidney?” she repeated. “A fortnight until we are man and wife. What harm could this do?”

Sidney shook his head, looking away from her. “No harm,” he said evenly. “Other than I might combust where I stand.” And when she said nothing to that, he said, carefully not looking at her. “You are still an innocent, my love, but I am burning terribly for you.” 

“Burning,” she repeated in a small voice. He nodded, looking flushed. 

“We will be wed, soon,” he said, reaching for her, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pulling her close against him. “You will be mine to touch, then -- anywhere.” 

“Ah,” Charlotte said faintly, leaning her head against his shoulder. That night, she spent long, sleepless hours thinking. Burning. He was burning for her. She knew that what he had meant was that he desired her. She was no fool, and she was not blind; growing up in the country with eleven younger siblings, she felt that she had a fairly clear understanding of the physical side of marriage. She knew that it involved temptation and desire, sharing a bed and a frightening degree of physical intimacy; but tonight, for the first time, she kept hearing Sidney’s voice in her mind, full of ineffable yearning, and thought about how it would be with the two of them. Her imagination ran rampant. The mechanics utterly hazy in her mind, she was nonetheless filled with liquid heat at the very idea. The fleeting memory of him rising, naked, from the waves, water rolling off pale muscles, gripped her imagination to an indecent degree. 

The next day, as he kissed her in the small wood behind her house, she grew bold, took his hand and placed it on her left breast. Sidney froze; for a moment, Charlotte thought he might bolt away from her. He did pull away, looking her in the eye; she met his gaze defiantly and said: 

“Perhaps _I_ am burning for you as well.” 

Sidney made a thick, desperate sound deep in his throat. His mouth closed over hers almost brutally—lips and tongue and teeth—as his hand closed around her breast. Between his touch and her actual flesh, there were several layers of fabric of various degrees of stiffness, but it did not seem to deter him. He stroked and molded and teased until she was groaning with unsatisfied lust. She had lived to be two and twenty and had not known that her body possessed an ability to feel this way. 

“My God, Sidney!” She gasped. He looked at her, dark eyes wild. 

“Do you see what I mean?” He whispered. “If we start down this path—“ 

He cut himself off, unable to resist kissing her again. Despite his warning to her, his hand did not fall away from her breast; rather, his fingers went to the buttons on her blue spencer, popping all five in turn to open the garment. She looked up in his face; his hooded eyes, breath coming quickly through parted lips. He looked, she thought, bespelled. Just then, he tugged her bodice down over the swell of her bosom, baring the edge of her stays and the flesh above them. Her heart was beating so, Charlotte thought he might be able to see it through her skin. She closed her eyes, sank her teeth into her lower lip so hard it hurt. 

“Charlotte?” Sidney asked quietly. She felt him move and rearrange things a little, and then his fingers were on her bare skin, lifting her breast out of the stays. She gasped and reached for purchase, grasping his shoulder hard through his coat; then felt the softness of his hair against his cheek as he dipped his head. Her breath sounded like bellows in her own ears, but she didn’t think to stop him from committing these shocking liberties. His breath, his hand clutching her waist, his lips on her skin, the burst of sensation as he teased her nipple with the tip of his tongue. She gasped and rocked unsteadily, her knees suddenly weak. 

He let go of her, gently pulling her stays, her gown up again, sliding the spencer closed on her bosom. She turned away, fingers like jelly on her buttons. 

“Charlotte,” he said quietly behind her. “I am sorry—have I gone too far?” 

She was finally able to do up her buttons, and she turned back to observe the look of stricken contrition on his face. She said, hurriedly: “No—no. I was the one who—“ she drew a sharp breath. “Nobody tells us girls anything. You are a man of the world, my love, but I am a bumbling fool when it comes to these things.” 

He rolled his eyes at her. “You are no fool. And I am not so worldly as all that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you not?” 

He sighed, offering her his arm. They walked on, quietly, down a lane. “If you are referring to that—that house, I had not visited that establishment above three or four times in the last several years.” 

“Oh?” 

“And not since — not since I met you. I do not,” he continued gruffly, “plan on returning there as a married man.” 

“Oh,” she said again, frankly. “That is a relief.” She knew that men of the world went to bawdyhouses, took up with actresses, kept mistresses. She could not imagine her Father ever doing so, but then again, he was not a man of the world. “It would make me exceedingly unhappy if you did.” 

They were quiet for a bit, and then she said: “But even the unworldly you knows more than I do about that side of marriage.” 

“Ah. Well. You are a quick study, I am certain of it. It would be my privilege to instruct you.” 

Charlotte pursed her lips. “Not a burden?” 

“A great pleasure, actually,” he said feelingly, his hand covering hers in the crook of his elbow. “I am — quite looking forward to it.” 

At that, both fell silent, Sidney’s cheek turning decidedly pink, and Charlotte contemplating what such instruction would entail. 

Mrs. Heywood spent her every waking moment helping prepare Charlotte’s trousseau. A dress was made, especially for the wedding, cream silk, long sleeves, roses on the hem, a long row of tiny buttons; the most beautiful thing she had ever possessed. Well, almost: it was eclipsed by a ring of pearls and opals that Sidney brought her from one of his trips to London. He gave it to her in the bower, carefully slipped it on her ring finger; and then kissed her, fervently and for a long time, until they were both breathless and pawing at each other. On his last return, the day before they were to be married at Willingden’s tiny church, he asked her, rather brazenly to take a walk with him when Alison was not there to chaperone them. Her Mother raised her eyebrows, then nodded; obviously, Charlotte’s reputation would suffer no irreparable injury the day before her wedding. 

They walked in silence, as if tomorrow’s momentous event had suddenly made them shy of one another. 

“So,” Sidney said finally. “Tomorrow.” 

Charlotte nodded. “I still cannot believe it.” She threw a quick glance at him. “It is too much happiness for one person, Sidney.” 

“Then you know how I feel.” Silent again, for a moment, then: “Is your gown ready? Are you to be the most beautiful bride in all of Sussex?” 

“It is ready,” she said. “And as to the rest of it, I shall let you be the judge of it.” 

“Indubitably, then.” He lifted her hand from his arm and pressed a light kiss to it over the glove. 

“And you — are you ready? Shall you like being an old married man? Leading a dull married life?” 

“Oh I beg to differ,” he said as he cleared some brambles from their path with his stick. “Life with you is certain to be the furthest thing from dull.” Here, his voice changed, and he said, “_Charlotte_.” 

She had learned, by now, that her name, spoken in such low, throaty tones, signified that liberties were about to be taken. At the very least, she was about to be kissed. Just now, he stopped in the middle of the lane and tugged her closer to himself. Charlotte lifted her face to his, stood on tiptoes and brushed his lips against his. Her bonnet got in the way; Sidney, without waiting for permission, pulled the ribbons open under her chin and took it off, then took his own hat off as well. She laughed: 

“Oh I see now that you mean business, sir!” 

Sidney cradled her cheek in one hand as his lips found hers. Charlotte held her breath, everything inside turning a little fragile, a little shaky. The thought that tomorrow night, he would do the same thing—and more besides—to her in their marriage bed was inescapable. She wound both arms around his neck as she returned his kiss, first stroking his full lower lip with the tip of his tongue, then — moved by the wanton thoughts if their wedding night—biting down lightly with her teeth. 

Sidney groaned, one hand slipping to her neck, pushing her harder into the kiss, the other landing brazenly over one breast. 

“God how I want you,” he said, low under his breath. 

“Tomorrow,” she murmured, gently stroking one hand against his cheek. “Tomorrow night.” Here, she colored — was she meant to fear the marriage bed? Would he think her wanton and depraved if he saw that she looked forward to it? 

But Sidney looked around wildly; then, a decision made, grasped her wrist and pulled her towards a shaded little gazebo. They had once hidden here from a late summer rain, and had kissed until their lips were raw, but had taken it no further. But things had changed since that afternoon two weeks into their engagement, Charlotte thought as she followed Sidney into the vine-covered enclosure. 

Just now, he turned towards her, and she saw the dangerous glint in his eyes, and she wanted to kiss him, desperately, but he was on her, pressing himself against her, kissing her neck, peeling her spencer off her to touch her breasts through her gown. Charlotte arched herself against him, shamelessly rubbing herself against the unmistakable hardness just below his waist. 

“Oh God,” Sidney gasped, his hand spasming on her breast. He yanked the bodice down without much ceremony, trapping her arms a bit, pressed his face against her bosom. Charlotte gasped at the sensation of his lips and tongue on her bare skin. She could hear someone’s heavy breathing, unable to tell whether it was him, or her, or both of them together. She ran her hands down his chest, glorying in the feeling of lean muscles beneath the linen and silk. Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow she would have all of him. 

Her fingers tarried at the bottom edge of his waistcoat, and she looked up into his face, finding his expression rather tortured. 

“Go on,” Sidney said hoarsely. 

“Go on?”she repeated, fingers finding a loose thread escaping his waistcoat. 

“Touch me,” he murmured. She did not require any further elaboration, the import of what he was asking quite clear. She held her breath, held his gaze while she let go of the waistcoat and slipped her hand lower. 

Sidney gasped again and pushed against her hand. 

“Forgive me.” His voice was tight as if with pain. “You must think me an utter beast.” 

“I think you wonderful,” she whispered. She pushed herself closer and pressed her lips beneath his jaw, against the leaping pulse in his neck, and he moaned and squeezed her waist in his hands. His eyes, she saw, were squeezed shut. She pressed her hand a little more tightly against him and felt the mysterious object jerk. 

“Gah.” Sidney exhaled through clenched teeth. “Stop—stop.” Confused, Charlotte released him and stepped back; he whirled away from her, one hand on the gazebo’s railing. His back was heaving. 

Feeling suddenly rather uncertain, Charlotte fixed her dress and rebuttoned her spencer. 

“Did I do anything wrong?” she asked of his back, hating how small her voice was all of a sudden. She cleared her throat in annoyance. He turned around, slowly, drew his fingers through his hair, disordering it. 

“I am so sorry,” he said, extending a hand to her. Relieved, she grasped it. “You did nothing wrong, my love. I should have known better than — “ He frowned. “Did I frighten you?”

“No,” she said. “But I thought I had done something wrong.” 

“You did nothing wrong,” Sidney said again, sighing. “I brought you here, I importuned you to take greater liberties. But it seems I do not know my own boundaries. I ought not have attempted this.” 

She was slightly confused by this but decided against questioning him further. He was not angry with her—and tomorrow night, all should be revealed. They found their discarded hats and turned their steps towards the house, speaking all the time about their wedding, the expected guests and even the cake. Before leaving her at her parents’ house, Sidney kissed both her hands and said: 

“Until tomorrow, then.” 

“Until tomorrow.” 

The night before the wedding, she walked into her bedchamber with a needle and thread between her teeth. One of the roses on the hem of her wedding dress had begun to unwind, and needed to be fixed. To her surprise, her Mother was waiting for her there, doing just that. 

“Mama,” Charlotte said brightly, taking the needle out of her mouth. “I was just going to—“

“Ah, no matter, my dear,” Mrs Heywood said, as she placed careful, tiny stitches. “This is the last night I can do anything for you. Tomorrow you shall be a grand married lady,” she added with some wry amusement. 

“Not so grand as all that,” Charlotte said, not quite knowing what to do with herself, only now realizing that her sisters, whose room this was as well, were not there. “Where are Alison and Sophie?” 

“I sent them off,” her Mother said, as she took a pair of tiny embroidery scissors and snipped off the thread. “Ah, as good as new.” Carefully, she set the silk confection of a dress on the hanger, then hung it on the closet door. “You shall make a beautiful bride tomorrow, my dear.” 

“Thank you, mama,” Charlotte said, touched. Her Mother had ever been kind, but with twelve children, perhaps not as demonstrative in her kindness as her eldest daughter might wish. Just now, she came over and sat on the edge of the bed, beckoning her daughter to join her. Charlotte did, warily, guessing at the conversation about to take place and feeling acute embarrassment at the very idea. 

“My dear,” Mrs. Heywood said. “I think you might have guessed at my purpose here tonight, if your long face is anything to go by.” 

Charlotte said nothing, dropping her eyes. 

“I shall not ask you how much you know about the marriage bed.” 

For that, Charlotte was thankful. The liberties that she had allowed and taken herself in the past weeks have made her less fearful and more eager than ever to learn the mysteries of it; but her mother most definitely did not need to know that. 

“But I shall tell you, my dear, that where there is love, and patience, there will also be joy and pleasure.” Here, improbably, she colored and dropped her eyes herself. “Your Mr. Parker seems to be utterly besotted with you, so on that score my heart is easy.” 

“He is, mama,” Charlotte said, smiling. “And I am with him.” 

“Very good, my dear. I shall not tell you how to behave in bed. Mothers sometimes tell their daughters that the bedding is not for their enjoyment, but for their husbands’, and that their only province is the bearing of babes — but I think that this is so much nonsense.”

“It is?” Charlotte asked cautiously. This discussion was _not_ going the way she would have expected. 

“It is,” Mrs. Heywood confirmed. “Children are our greatest joy, but there are other joys as well to be found in wifely… companionship.” 

“Oh.” 

“So I shall not tell you to lie still and hope it will be over soon. Somehow I do not think it would please your husband if you did so.” 

“Oh,” Charlotte said again. She agreed most emphatically with that, her memory of Sidney’s embrace just this afternoon vivid in her mind. 

“Follow his lead in all, and all shall be well.” 

“Yes, mama.” 

“Do you have any questions for me?” 

“Will it hurt?” Charlotte blurted out. That _had_ worried her a bit, more so after she had had a chance to touch the very object that would, she guessed, make the very intimate acquaintance with her body. 

Her mother shrugged. “It might,” she said easily. “The first few times, while your body accustoms itself to his. But,” she added, “such pain is nothing to fear.”

It was not in Charlotte’s nature to cringe in terror at the unknown; so she put away her worries and thought only of joys to come. She had always hoped to marry for love; but, in the weeks after Sidney’s engagement to Mrs. Campion, she had thought it might not happen for her. She had loved Sidney to distraction, never stopping, and the very thought that her poor broken heart might heal itself for someone else had seemed ludicrous. But since he had returned to her, once she accustomed herself to the thought, the future had begun to look rather more bright. 

“Oh Mama, I love him so,” she said with a sigh. Her Mother smiled kindly and took her daughter’s hands in hers. 

“I am very happy to hear that,” she said, bringing Charlotte’s clasped hands to her cheek. “You are my precious child. I hope he spends his entire life endeavoring to deserve you.” 

Just before bedtime, a visitor was announced, to the Heywoods’ and Charlotte’s surprise. She stood at the top of the landing and waited to see who it was; but upon hearing a familiar superior voice, laughed in delight and ran down the stairs. 

“Georgiana!” she cried, hugging her friend. “I thought you were coming tomorrow?” 

“I was,” Georgiana said. “I was to ride with Lord and Lady B.” She dropped her cloak onto a servant’s arms and pulled off her traveling gloves. “But they are insufferable — all they do is _stare_ at one another like a pair of confounded love birds.” She made a face. “It really is beyond anything. One might think he will start grooming her any minute now.” 

Charlotte spattered with laughter, then hugged Georgiana again before introducing her to her family. Arrangements were made at once to move Sophie out of the older girls’ bedchamber to allow Georgiana to share it. 

“It is modest,” Charlotte said, a little awkward. 

“It is infinitely preferable to riding here in the Babingtons’ company. One really feels de trop.” 

Later, having taken some refreshment, her friend sat with Charlotte in her beloved window-seat. 

“Sidney does not know you are here?” 

“No. He has most particularly charged me to ride with Lord B.” 

“Oh, Georgiana.” 

“Oh come, I was in no danger. I had a maid and two armed footmen with me. And if I were ever to disobey his orders, and get away with it, tonight might be the night for that.” She made a comical little shrug. “So,” she said, lowering her voice. “Has your mamá had the horrible, terrible, most mortifying tête-à-tête with you yet?” 

Charlotte laughed and briefly covered her face with her hands. “It was not all _that_ horrible.” 

Georgiana shook her head. “Makes me oddly glad I do not have a mother.” 

“Oh but you shall not escape it!” Charlotte said gleefully. “Sidney is your guardian, so I fear it will fall to _me_ to do the honors before you marry.” 

Georgiana made vile gagging sounds. “God forfend, considering where all of your knowledge would come from.” 

Both of them laughed until they cried, and then Georgiana said: “You know, I might have to revise my view of the man. Perhaps there is something approaching a heart in that breast of his, since he seems to have done right by you.” 

Charlotte smiled. “There is one, yes.” She gave her friend a narrow look. “Are you still mad at him about Otis?” 

“No,” Georgiana said thoughtfully. “I am mad at _Otis_ about Otis. I have heard that he is back in debt to a money-lender. I cannot blame Sidney for not finding him a fitting husband for me.”


	2. The Wedding

The morning of the wedding dawned brilliantly blue. Charlotte had not slept since before dawn, sitting in the window-seat wrapped in her shawl, thinking that this was the last sunrise she was to meet as Charlotte Heywood. She would be Charlotte Parker by the time tomorrow’s dawn came. _Mrs. Parker._ This filled her with a mix of joy and wistfulness so strong, her heart ached. 

“My dear.” Her mother was there with a cup of hot coffee and a roll for her. “It is seven already. You are to be at the church at nine o’clock.” 

Charlotte quickly chewed the roll and washed it down with too-hot coffee. She had bathed the night before; just now, there was nothing left to her but to clean her teeth, don her new underthings and sit in the chair to have her hair teased and set and pinned up with silk flowers. Georgiana and Alison already up and getting dressed, the room was full of happy chirping and laughter; soon enough, Charlotte stepped into the dress her mother was holding for her. Alison helped her with her shoes; behind her, Georgiana nimbly did up her buttons, muttering something gleeful only Charlotte could hear about the difficulty she expected her guardian to have with these later in the day. She had a lace veil — a present from Lady Worcester, a breathtaking heirloom — pinned to her hair, and it was done. The three women stood back and admired their handiwork. 

“Well?” Charlotte asked a little tremulously. “Will I do, do you think?” 

“I would hug you right now,” Alison said, “but you look so much like spun sugar, I am afraid to touch you.” 

Standing before the closed doors of Willingden’s parish church, Charlotte had to admit to herself that she was afraid. Her Mother, her sisters, and Georgiana had all gone ahead. She threw a slightly harassed glance at Mr. Heywood. He looked kindly back at her and squeezed her hand. 

“Do not fret, my dear, he will be there.” 

She flushed with sudden shame, embarrassed to have been thus caught out. 

“No, papa, I — “ 

“Do him the justice of feeling for you as strongly as you do for him.” 

“Very well, Papa.” 

“Shall we now, already? Before your fellow decides you’ve jilted him.” 

They did, the church doors opening in front of them. 

She saw Sidney at once, a tall figure by the altar, dressed in a beautifully fitting cut-away coat, with Viscount Babington just behind him. He took her breath away, making her feel like a giddy young girl. As she and her father stepped forward, she saw him half-turn towards her to watch her progress down the aisle. All the while, she kept her eyes on his, and when she finally came to stand next to him, her hand slipping off her Father’s arm, could not help a joyful smile. 

“I love you,” Sidney whispered under his breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, and from then on, stood still and grave and serious next to the love of her life; but when the time came for her to speak her vow, her voice did not falter one bit. 

Afterwards, there was great jubilation. Charlotte signed the register as if in a blur, her new name looking odd and foreign and not hers at all. Then, they were on the steps of the church, holding hands, surrounded by happy faces, under a shower of petals. 

“Kiss!” someone yelled, and Charlotte was slightly mortified at such utter lack of decorum. But Sidney took it in stride, pulling her closer and kissing her soundly in full view of her entire family and all their guests. 

At the wedding breakfast, held in her parents’ rose garden, the wedding cake was so steeped in brandy, it made Charlotte’s head spin. Her little brothers and sisters darted among tea rose bushes, playing tag. The air around them was thick with floral redolence; she could barely sit down, barely swallow a bite, before being tugged to and fro, embraced, kissed on both cheeks and wished every happiness with her new husband. From where she stood, she saw him subjected to all the same methods of torture, just now being grilled about something by the old Lady Denham. He threw a pitiable glance at Charlotte across the garden; she shrugged and held up both hands. It was exhausting being the center of attention. 

Tom Parker found her just as she was sitting with Georgiana, trying to finish that piece of wedding cake. 

“My dear,” he said warmly. “I must speak with you. Now that we are brother and sister.” 

“Of course,” Charlotte said pleasantly, ignoring Georgiana’s roll of the eyes. She set the unfinished cake back onto her plate. Tom threw an embarrassed glance at Georgiana, clearly wishing her miles away for what he was about to say. Charlotte considered asking her friend to leave; then, she reconsidered. Happy as she was today, Tom’s mismanagement of his business had almost cost her Sidney. 

“I must beg your forgiveness,” he said, looking down. 

“You must not,” Charlotte said generously. “Not today, Mr. Parker.” 

“Tom, my dear, we are -- “ 

“Brother and sister now, yes. Today is my wedding day, Tom, and I wish only to think happy thoughts.” 

Ignoring her, he barreled on: “I did not know -- if I had known -- I should have never encouraged him -- I should have never agreed -- “ 

Georgiana, sitting next to her, arms folded on her chest, stared at Tom with all the derision it was possible to convey with one’s eyes. Charlotte felt very warm towards her friend, very thankful for such loyalty. She smiled kindly. 

“You are quite forgiven,” she told him. His selfishness and weakness had almost ruined her life, and had he been anyone else, she would have consigned him to the devil. But he was Sidney’s beloved brother, and so she would have to make peace with him. 

“Oh, Tom, here you are.” Mary, smiling sweetly, leaned to give Charlotte a kiss on the cheek. “Come along now. I must ask you something.” She grasped her husband’s elbow. “My dear, your friend Lady Worcester is here, I understand.” 

Charlotte threw a longing glance at the remainders of the cake on her plate, rose and went to greet her dear friend. Her astonishment was monumental, however, when she saw the crowd of her wedding guests part before a gentleman at Lady Worcester’s side; a gentleman of such great portliness, he looked nigh-on round. It looked not unlike the waves of the Red Sea parting before Moses; everyone around her bowed and bent the knee, and she remembered only belatedly to drop into a curtsey. 

The Prince Regent turned to Lady Worcester and said: “You were correct, my dear, this is a lovely spot, and a lovelier bride.” 

“I only speak the truth.” The lady’s voice chimed musically. The Prince motioned for Charlotte to rise, and she did, awkwardly. Never before in her life had she met a personage of such import and power. Her mind, addled by excitement and exhaustion, scrambled for the correct mode of address. Should she call him sire, or was that reserved for a king only? She settled for: “Your Highness. Welcome.” 

“My dear friend.” Lady Worcester stepped forward, kissed Charlotte on both cheeks. “May you be very happy with your handsome Mr. Parker.” 

Charlotte murmured her thanks, entirely not over her shock. She had not expected this. 

“Isn’t she lovely, Highness?” Lady Worcester asked the Prince. 

“Indeed. Very pretty manners,” the Prince agreed. Charlotte, who had only ever heard people laugh at Prinny -- calling him the prince of whales, making light of his astronomical debts, of his failed Catholic marriage -- was astonished to find him pleasant and personable; he kindly greeted her shocked, overwrought parents, and even partook of a sizable piece of wedding cake. 

Lady Worcester and her august companion did not stay long. Soon after they left, it was time for the newlyweds to depart as well. There was another round of embraces and kisses; then, finally, Charlotte found herself alone with her husband. 

Her husband. The word alone gave her such a thrill! Sitting across from her, he took his hat off and gave her the most brilliant smile. 

“Well,” he said. “Mrs. Parker.” 

She grinned back at him, before disposing of her bonnet and tugging off her gloves. 

“Mr. Parker.” 

“I cannot believe your friend brought Prinny to our wedding.” 

“I know! It will go down as a legend in Heywood family history. My mother looked as if she might frame his cake plate.” 

Sidney laughed, then, growing suddenly serious, said: 

“She wrote to me, you know.”

“My mother?”

“Lady Worcester. A week ago. Inquiring about any investment that might be available to her in Sanditon. She wrote that she is “tired of Brighton” and would like a foothold in a different seaside town.” He smiled again. “She made sure to remind me that her particular draw to the town was that _you_ would henceforth reside there as my wife.” 

“Ah,” Charlotte said faintly. Her head was spinning with all the news and all the changes. 

“How lucky for Sanditon that Tom’s carriage broke down on your father’s property.” Sidney’s gaze grew tender, and he leaned forward and took her hand in his. “And how lucky for _me. Charlotte_.” 

All breath rushed out of her when he tugged her over to his side of the carriage. In another moment, she was in his arms, kissing him; another quick heave, and she was straddling him quite shamelessly, her dress riding up her thighs so high, it had bared her blue embroidered garters. The way he was looking at her--with so much heat and love in his gaze! As if she hanged the moon, as her Father was fond of saying. She pressed her forehead to his, rubbed their noses together, and confessed her love for him in a heated whisper. 

Charlotte’s words, although he had heard them before, had the most direct effect on Sidney; he seemed to growl as he took her chin in one hand and kissed her forcefully. She gave as good as she got, meeting him stroke for stroke, fingers curled against the back of his head. They kissed for a far longer time than ever before, not pulling away until the lack of air forced them apart; and then reaching for one another again with utter sensual greed. 

“Oh!” Sidney finally tore himself away. “Two more hours until I can have you.”

Charlotte felt the heat in her face; she had never heard him speak with such frankness before. 

“Have me,” she repeated, tracing the outline of his mouth with her fingertips. “Is that what you would call it?” 

“Have you,” he murmured huskily, pressing his lips in the crook her neck. “Bed you.” She felt his smile against her skin. “There are a few other terms I can teach you -- later.” 

“Later,” she repeated weakly. She pulled back a bit to look at him. “I have never known you to be wicked before.” 

He grinned at her, something piratical in his beautiful face. “You are my wife now, Mrs. Parker. I fear I might shock you with how wicked I intend to be with you tonight.” 

His one hand anchoring her in his lap by the waist, his other slipped up to her neck and pushed her head down into a heated kiss. Charlotte stroked his cheek as she kissed him, her tongue flicking just inside his mouth, her teeth nipping on his lower lip -- she reflected that of his entire person, that lip was, indeed, the most delectable part; at least of the part of his person that she had been privileged to see up close. She allowed fully that there would be more -- better -- parts later tonight; but for now, she loved her husband’s lip. 

The hand that had been stroking her back moved deftly around; she helped him undo the buttons on her pelisse. She did not question what he wanted with her, her nipples already tingling in anticipation of his touch. Kissing her neck, Sidney reached behind her and undid the top two buttons on the back of her wedding gown; this allowed him to push her dress down sufficiently to provide himself access to her breasts. Her stays were no impediment, presenting her bosom to his lips as if on a platter. Charlotte swayed in his lap at the feeling of his lips and tongue on her tender flesh. The sounds that left her lips entirely mortifying, she anchored herself by grabbing hold of his hair and squeezed her eyes shut in overwhelming pleasure. 

“Ow,” he laughed, gently untangling her fingers from his locks. “You will leave me bald at this rate, madam.” 

“Ah. I beg -- “ Charlotte swallowed thickly. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Parker. But the way you make me feel, I might topple off your lap and onto the floor.” 

“I shall take it as a compliment,” Sidney said seriously. “And I should never let you fall.” His arm snaked, securely, around her back. “I have you.” He returned his attention to her breasts; very soon, she found herself utterly insensible and moved to push herself tightly against the solid body beneath her. To her secret, silent glee, this had an effect on him as well; she knew that she was not the only one burning just now. 

“You are so -- beautiful -- “ Sidney murmured in growing excitement. Pushing her gently towards him, kissing the skin above her stays; pulling her down closer the better to kiss her neck. He carefully liberated her breast from her stays; then, bending his head, teased the nipple with the tip of his tongue, then drew it between his lips. Charlotte made an unintelligible _urk_ sound and felt him chuckle against her breast, the sound reverberating against her flesh in a peculiar way. 

“You are laughing at me,” she said, indignant. She made to slip off his lap, but he was holding her fast.

“No, no,” he said, still dropping kisses on her skin. “I am simply -- happy.” He looked up. “Like a man who has had his most audacious dream realized.” 

She held her breath at this declaration. 

“I am, too,” she confessed. “I want to pinch myself every time I look at you.” 

Sidney laughed, low and throaty, and squeezed her waist tightly in both hands, before dipping his head again to bestow more caresses. Charlotte closed her eyes; every kiss, every flick of his tongue against her skin, made her want to get closer to him. Unconsciously, she did just that, pressing herself more tightly, more intimately against him, offering more of herself to his searching lips and fingers. She could feel him, hard, between her legs, and she pushed down against him, making him suck in his breath and arch against her in turn. 

“Ah.” He threw his head back against his seat; in the dim carriage interior, Charlotte could see that he was biting his lip. _“God.”_

“Did you like that?” she asked, curiously. 

“Overmuch.” Sidney sighed and sought her gaze, before taking her waist in both hands and pulling her down, hard, against himself. The sensation of him pressing between her thighs was suddenly intensely pleasing, and she gasped and pushed herself down again, rubbing against him like a cat. She bent her head down and kissed him, greedily, raptly, sliding her tongue in his mouth like he had taught her. 

She felt his hand on her leg, stroking over her garter, slipping under her skirt even as he gently grazed her nipple with his teeth. She shuddered and held herself still, feeling his fingers beneath her skirts, stroking gently up her damp, heated thigh.

“May I?” Sidney asked quietly, dark eyes intent on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. The sensation of his fingers touching gently between her legs, tracing, rubbing, dipping just inside, very soon had her gasping and moaning against his neck. Her vision dimmed and flashed and her breath came in hard short pants. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her hips rocked, shamelessly, against his hand. A litany of gasps and small ohs fell from her lips. Parts of her she had not known she had trembled and spasmed and glowed with warmth, and her skin felt like it was covered with a thousand tiny points of light. Before she could help it, a loud, helpless moan vaulted from her and seemed to reverberate off the walls of the carriage, and she bit her lip and hid her face on his shoulder to stifle the next one. For several blissful moments she floated, unmoored, her world reduced to the pulsations of her flesh.

Sidney’s hand moved back over her leg, petting and soothing her. Charlotte unclasped her fingers from her husband’s shoulders, took a shuddering breath. 

“Pray,” she said, “what was _that_?”

His eyes widened; for a moment, he seemed genuinely taken aback. “You mean to tell me that you have never -- before --” 

She shook her head. “At Willingden, I shared a bedchamber with two of my sisters,” she said frankly. “Does not precisely dispose one to sensual exploration.” 

She watched his face break into a grin. “Well, then. I feel rather privileged to have given you your first.” 

“My first -- what?” 

She could not tell for certain in the dim carriage, but she thought he might have blushed. “A _petit-mort,_ as the French call it.” 

She had read the term somewhere, but had given it no thought at the time. “A little death,” she said dubiously. “It did not feel like I died. In fact I feel rather more alive than ever before.” 

Sidney took her hand, pressed her wrist to his lips. 

“I shall happily teach you other words for it -- and for all sorts of other things, later.” 

“What of you?” Charlotte asked, looking down on him from her perch. He was still hard as a rock between her legs. “Have you had your -- “ she wrinkled her nose in awkward amusement. “_Little death_? Lord, what a silly name.” 

_ _“No,” he said, looking away, suddenly embarassed. “I think I shall wait until we are home.” _ _

_ _“Oh?” She rose up on her knees, then pushed herself down against him, experimentally. Caught unawares, he grunted, then wrapped his arms about her and pulled her into a gentle kiss._ _

_ _“Charlotte. We have another hour to go. If you continue with this -- my darling girl, I have very honorable plans for you that do not include a tumble in a carriage.” _ _

_ _“Honorable, huh.” She could ill help herself, drawn to him as if she were a moth and he her flame; leaning forward, pressing her breasts to his chest, rubbing herself shamelessly against him below. “Somehow I find it difficult to believe.” _ _

_ _“Honorable enough,” he said, his voice strangled, doing absolutely nothing to stop her movements. “Honorable enough to include a bed -- a bed inside a _house _\-- “ He squeezed his eyes shut as if in agony; then, picking her up by the waist, he hauled her off and set her on the seat next to him. For a moment, nothing was said, and he only sat there with his eyes closed and _breathed_. Charlotte sighed and pouted, deeply embarrassed; clearly without meaning to, he had made her feel a hussy. In her mortification, she peered out the window; soon enough, her pouting was arrested by a gentle hand upon her shoulder. _ _

_ _“My love,” Sidney said hoarsely. “My very dearest love, I -- Please understand that the immoderacy here is not on your part -- you are all that is sweet and pure -- but on mine. I know my limits, and I keep exceeding them when you are around. It would not do for us to take this any further until we reach our destination.” _ _

_ _Charlotte sighed and nestled against him. For the rest of their journey, they did no more than hold hands.Their discussion left off the dangerous topics, and turned to the arrangement of their household. Theirs would be one of the terraces, once rebuilt; and in the meantime, Sidney had rented a house closer to the dunes and the sea. Charlotte found the idea very agreeable; but then, most everything he did these days she found very agreeable. There would be a household of servants -- for the two of them, more than had served her entire large family at Willingden. A housekeeper and a cook, a maid of all work, a groom. His valet and her maid. A _lady’s maid_ of her own. She had been bowled over and a little shocked at the idea when Mary had first written to her about interviewing several girls in town at Sidney’s request. One of the girls at Willingden had been passably good at setting hair, but most of the time, the older sisters all did one another’s. A maid of her own was a considerable luxury. _ _

_ _But, it appeared, she was not to meet this maid tonight. _ _

_ _“I hope you do not mind,” Sidney said, his hand stroking Charlotte’s hair lightly. “I have given the servants the night off, once they have prepared the house for us.” _ _

_ _“Ah,” Charlotte said, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “You may have to help me with my … things, then.” _ _

_ _Sidney hemmed. “Hmm. It _would_ be a hardship and an imposition, Mrs. Parker. But I suppose I shall manage.” _ _

_ _“What a helpful fellow you are, Mr. Parker. And here I was told that you were stubborn and did not take instruction well.” _ _

_ _

_ _The house, when she saw it, was a delight. It was just large enough, airy and light, tastefully furnished. She walked from room to room, bathed in late afternoon light, completely charmed. That there were no servants lent the empty house a slightly magical air, making her feel that they were alone in the world. Charlotte twirled around in the middle of the parlor, under a sparkling crystal chandelier, skirts and laughter flying. Turning, she caught sight of Sidney in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, smiling at her with so much love in his eyes, her heart caught. Full of exuberant joy, she flew at him and he caught her about the waist and held her to himself. Bending his head to her, he kissed her, mouth tender and searching. Charlotte melted. At the end of their journey, she had been a little tired and terribly hungry, but now, all thoughts of food or rest fled her, leaving her wanting one thing only. _ _

_ _Clearly of a similar mind, Sidney tore himself away from her lips. “Come.” They walked, hand-in-hand, to their bedchamber. Neither had given any thought to the possibility that they might not share one. She knew that it was not _done thing_ amongst the _ton_, but she desired her husband’s company at all times and had been secretly relieved that he wanted hers as well. Like the rest of the house, their room was spare and airy, with a large four-poster occupying the prominent spot in the room, and a dressing-room to each side. A large window looking over the dunes filled the bedchamber with golden light. The fire had been laid in the fireplace, and now it glowed and crackled, turning the room pleasantly warm. Charlotte held her breath in pleasure. _ _

_ _“I shall leave you to -- “ Sidney nodded at one dressing room door, before turning and disappearing himself behind the other. In her dressing-room, Charlotte peered at herself in a tall cheval glass. A wife. In name only, but, something told her, not for much longer. _Mrs. Parker._ The appellation still seemed odd and a little foreign -- except when _he_ said it. She poured a little water on her hands and held them against her flaming cheeks, taking deep breaths. She was not afraid, she told herself; there was nothing to be afraid of, only the man she loved to distraction. She took off her bonnet, her gloves, her shoes; peeled off her pelisse and hung it neatly. She washed parts of herself as much as was practicable without removing her gown. Pulling the pins out of her hair, she set them neatly onto a small vanity before drawing her fingers through her hair. Then, looking back at herself in the mirror, she exhaled once, forcefully, through pursed lips. _Here I go_, she thought, before turning and walking back into the bedchamber. _ _

_ _Sidney was already there, standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He had discarded his jacket and stood now in his shirtsleeves. Charlotte cleared her throat, causing him to turn. _ _

_ _“You took your hair down,” he said at once, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. _ _

_ _She smiled, a little tremulously. “Do you object? I generally do it before -- well, before going to bed.” _ _

_ _He walked towards her, extending one hand. “I do _not_ object. You have always looked enchanting to me with your hair all wild. You were the only lady of my acquaintance who wore it that way, and I could not take my eyes off you.” _ _

_ _Charlotte happily put her hand in his and let him pull her against his chest, nestling there against his solid warmth. He had removed his cravat and she could see his skin in the open collar of his shirt. Her fingers buzzed with the desire to touch him. “If only I had known. I had convinced myself that you were ever displeased with me.” _ _

_ _“I was ever enamoured of you,” Sidney corrected her gently. “In lust at first. Then in love.” _ _

_ _“Oh.” _ _

_ _“Yes.” He kissed her again, his hands now roaming about her person, his touch now even more thrilling. Gently, he turned her around and started undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. Despite Georgiana’s dire predictions, he made quick work of them, popping them all in turn, until the gown could be peeled off Charlotte like the skin off a peach. He helped her step out of it, all the while dropping kisses on her bare neck and shoulders. The thought that she stood before a man -- this man, who could set her aflame with a single dark glance -- dressed in naught but her stays and petticoats, was humbling and arousing at once. Lest she be tempted to hide from his gaze, Charlotte met the problem head-on by turning and reaching for her husband’s waistcoat. _ _

_ _“My turn,” she said, her voice suddenly hoarse. Sidney obeyed, docile as a child. She took the game a step further, pushing the braces off his shoulders and starting on his shirt. In another moment, he was naked to the waist, and she remembered just how breathtakingly handsome he was underneath all his clothes. Unable to resist the urge, she set her palm over where she supposed his heart ought to be, feeling it beat strongly under the warm skin. _ _

_ _Sidney grinned at her and in a hushed voice, recited: _ _

_ _“How does it go—_I am naked first; why then -- what needst thou have more covering than a man?_” _ _

_ _“Donne,” Charlotte said, automatically. _ _

_ _“Indeed it is.” And he picked her up, hefting her up his body, until she was moved to lock her legs around his hips. Two awkward stumbling steps, and he dropped her onto the bed and fell atop her. For a moment, he did nothing else, resting in her embrace, looking down at her with eyes that were warm and loving and vulnerable. Then, his mouth was on hers, his kiss tender first, but then growing more carnal, his tongue delving greedily in. Charlotte matched him stroke for stroke, relishing his weight atop her, his hardness between her legs. She heard her breath, her heart clattering in her ears as she kissed him back with all the pent-up excitement and passion of the prior weeks. _ _

_ _Then, Sidney was sitting up, pulling her up after him, turning her about again. Charlotte felt him fumble with her stays, and then, their restricting clasp was gone, and she sighed and drew a lungful of air, rubbed at the mark left in her side by the whalebone. He was kneeling behind her, kissing her neck as he pulled her cambric petticoat up, urging her to lift her hips. She did that; in another moment, she was entirely bare, save for her stockings with their blue garters. She looked up at Sidney, feeling heat flood her chest, neck, cheekbones. She was _naked_. With a man, in a bed, and dressed in only decadent silk stockings, and somehow this was more mortifying than being without clothes at all. But the hungry look in his eyes as he gazed upon her body lent her considerable courage. _Come, Admiral Heywood, bear up._ _ _

_ _Sidney touched her, gently putting out a hand to stroke one breast, then dipping towards her to put his mouth on her nipples. This, too, made it easier, as did the whispered litany of praise and desire he kept up as he kissed her. _My heart_, he whispered, and _beautiful_, and _God I am going to explode if I can’t have you soon_. _ _

_ _Charlotte slipped her fingers into his thick hair, forced his head up from her breast. _ _

_ _“Methinks you will find yourself hard-pressed to consummate this marriage wearing those,” she said a little archly, nodding at his trousers, and he rolled his eyes at her in so familiar a fashion, she could not keep from giggling. _ _

_ _Letting go of her for a moment, Sidney sat on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes. She watched his back, broad and beautifully tapered, and the oddly vulnerable nape where his hair curled despite a recent cut. Something inside of her trembled, and she was moved to rise and kneel behind him, before pressing herself to him front to back. The feel of him all along her front — the expanse of warm, smooth skin and muscle — made her catch her breath._ _

_ _“Mmmmm.” Sidney looked at her over his shoulder, then caught her lips with his. “My beautiful wife,” he said, voice low. “Let me—“ _ _

_ _She sat back on her knees and watched him undo his falls, and rising, push his trousers down his legs. Now he had not a shred of clothing on him, and Charlotte stared, quite unable to take her eyes off him. _ _

_ _“You have already seen me naked as Adam,” he said, seeming a bit self-conscious. “This should all be familiar territory to you.” _ _

_ _“I turned around then,” she said, utterly mesmerized by the wide planes of muscle, the smattering of dark hair against his pale skin, and, well — “I barely saw anything. And you look different today.” _ _

_ _He frowned at her at first, but then, comprehension dawning, said: “Ah. Well.” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “The difference is that I am in bed with _you_.”_ _

_ _Before she could stop herself for being indecent, she reached out and grazed the object before her with her fingertips. She heard Sidney suck in air at her touch. “_Charlotte_.” _ _

_ _“Mmmmm?” She did it again, finding the whole experience rather enlightening — the sensation of warm silky skin under her fingertips, the single bead of moisture at the tip, how perfectly it fit in her hand as she wrapped her fingers around it. She slid her hand up, then down. Sidney gasped and rocked forward, and for a moment, she thought that he was going to crash to the floor. _ _

_ _“This is marvellous,” she said, looking up happily at his face. “How did I not know you had a thing like this?” _ _

_ _He gave a choking laugh, but the sound of it quickly turned into a groan as she dragged her hand along his length. “This is the province of wives,” he said, biting his lip. “I could not very well introduce the two of you up close while you were my affianced.” _ _

_ _“How lucky for us both that I am your wife, then,” Charlotte said. She experimented, pulling her hand this way and that, stroking and squeezing, delighting in his sighs and rapturous moans. Sidney had set one knee on the bed and leaned against the bed-post, eyes closed, allowing her the freedom of his body. His chest was heaving, his lips parted; he looked, oddly, like a beautiful martyr in one of Lady Denham’s Italian paintings. As she drew her fingernails lightly along the softer part of him underneath, he shuddered under her hands. _ _

_ _“Charlotte,” he murmured thickly, eyelashes lifting. “I think -- I think you ought to stop now.” _ _

_ _She did, at once, and he came over her, gently pushing her backwards onto the bed. Stretching himself alongside her and kissing her mouth, then her neck, scattering kisses across her shoulders, her breasts, her belly, until a fire ignited beneath her skin. He slid down the length of her, pressing kisses below her navel and to the tops of her thighs, pressing her legs apart. She froze a little, looking down the length of her body: _ _

_ _“What -- “ she asked faintly, but the words died on her tongue when she felt him lick the inside of her leg, then higher up. She closed her eyes, flushed deeply with mortification and desire. She could not have imagined anything of the sort--_people did things like this?!_ Sidney held her open, the strokes of his tongue on her most private parts making everything inside of her vibrate with shocked pleasure. She arched mindlessly against him, hungry for more of his touch, and felt his breath and his quiet laughter, before he appeared to redouble his efforts. Daring a look, she saw his broad shoulders, his hands holding her legs apart, his face against her -- she gasped, feeling something dark and animal rise inside of her. She should have been mortified. She was! Somewhere deep inside her, outraged modesty made itself known and struggled weakly against the desire swamping her, instantly outmatched. _ _

_ _Sidney chose to move his efforts higher, to the pleasurable spot he had touched earlier, first teasing it with the tip of his tongue -- she thought her eyes may have rolled back in her head -- then sucking it carefully between his lips. Charlotte threw one arm over her face, even as her hips rose and fell, again and again and again, completely without her volition. Everything he did to her felt sinful, wicked, absolutely exquisite. A wave of bliss spilled over her, enormous and all-consuming, tearing sobs from her throat. She felt him cradle her hips in both hands, felt him nuzzle at her trembling thigh, then make his way back up her body, kissing his way up to her mouth. Eyes barely fluttering open, her vision hazy, Charlotte looked at her husband. _ _

_ _“That was … transporting,” she managed to say and caught a rather bashful smile. She stroked her fingers down his chest. “I might never wish to do anything else.” _ _

_ _“Well,” Sidney said, “About that last one--there is one other thing that I should like to do, if it is all the same to you--” He leaned forward and kissed her again, and Charlotte slipped both arms around his neck and pulled him down in invitation. She watched him settle between her legs, resting on one elbow. Had she retained any capacity for embarrassment, she would have blushed just at the moment, watching him take himself in hand. She stiffened involuntarily as she felt him push against her; suddenly, he felt strong and thick and foreign, an invader. But his eyes, she saw, were still tender on her, and he whispered exhortations into her ear, begging her to relax and let him in, telling her all the lovely, shocking things she craved to hear. She relaxed, enough only for him to slip in the very smallest bit; but her discomfort grew into a sharp pain when he pushed forward. She gasped, eyes watering, trying to focus on his person, the small details of being with him -- on the play of muscles under his skin, the catch in his voice as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, the change in his breathing as he moved within her. The pain had an edge of pleasure to it; she had never before felt two things at the same time. _ _

_ _Sidney was supporting himself on one arm as he moved, bending awkwardly to drop heavy kisses along the bend of her neck and shoulder. _That_ felt remarkably good, and she slipped both hands into his hair and pulled him closer for more. His mouth against hers was carnal, sloppy, and there was a tremor to his shoulders now. His voice husky, he murmured her name, stroked one thumb against her lips, then just inside. Possessed of a devilish impulse, she scraped her teeth against his skin, then bit down. Sidney’s hips stuttered, jerking forward, and he made an urgent, startled sound deep in his throat. _ _

_ _“Do you want this to be over?” he whispered, stopping momentarily. “Are you in too much pain?” She considered his question. It still hurt, but it also felt wicked and exciting and strangely _good_. She angled her hips, wrapped her legs around his, then shook her head. _ _

_ _“No,” she whispered, running her fingers along his cheekbone, his proud nose, the lines of his mouth; he caught at her fingertips with his lips, making her arch into him despite the ache between her legs. “No. Just kiss me some more.” _ _

_ _Sidney obliged her, leaning forward on both arms, his mouth soft and a little frantic against hers. As he moved inside her once more, his heart clattered against her own; his face now acquired a peculiarly helpless expression. Charlotte remembered his words about wanting to put himself in her power. This made her want to do all sorts of abandoned, shocking things to him, and she thought about earlier, about holding his _instrument_ in her hand, thought about doing it again, about doing other things, too. She had never before wished to possess another person so fully. Thinking thus ensured that she felt very little pain now, and she found herself rocking her hips to meet her husband’s increasingly urgent thrusts. In another moment, she felt him grasp her hip, angling it, then thrust hard, once, twice, before collapsing atop her. He was gasping for air against her neck, his body now seemingly outside of his control, his hips jerking. She stroked his heaving, damp shoulders, thinking with some relief that she was his wife now, no longer in name only. _ _

_ _“My love,” Sidney murmured, sighing against her cheek. He seemed completely vanquished, full of exhausted, sated lassitude. Slowly, he slipped from her and rose to his knees. Charlotte wrinkled her nose at the sting and wetness between her legs, and he touched her flank gently. “Did I hurt you badly?”_ _

_ _She shook her head. “Not at all. It is more the question of -- well -- of untidiness, I suppose.” _ _

_ _“Ah.” He looked down at himself, at her. “I am sorry for that. It is easily remedied.”_ _

_ _He rose from the bed and pulled on his trousers. _ _

_ _“I shall bring you hot water,” he said, and left. Behind the window, October sky was turning from red to purple, soon to be full-black. Charlotte waited in bed, lolling in the sheets, her head full of the memories of what had just transpired. Pain was only a distant one now; instead, she held onto the images of her husband as he had been in bed with her. The word _husband_ when applied to the handsome, once-unapproachable man he had been this summer, still seemed to her the oddest thing in the world. But the memory of him in her arms, his face transformed and his voice whispering words of surrender into her ear…_ _

_ _She jumped a bit when she heard him next door, the sound of water being poured, then Sidney himself emerging from her dressing-room, still only wearing his trousers and with his hair standing on end. Suddenly shy, Charlotte gathered a sheet about her as she rose from the bed. She made to slip past him, but he caught her by her shoulders and leaned to place a chaste kiss on her lips. _ _

_ _“Come out quickly,” he said. “There is food.”_ _

_ _“Oh,” Charlotte said excitedly. “Food! This is what I’ve been missing this whole time!” _ _

_ _For a moment, Sidney looked affronted; then, clearly catching the glint in his wife’s eye, went after her and pulled her to himself to be kissed once again. _ _

_ _“Woe is me,” he said, the amusement in his gaze belying his words, “to discover that my wife is a proper shrew only upon wedding and bedding her.” _ _

_ _Her sheet slipped off her body, and his eyes on her became warm and slightly wandering again—but then, he pushed her gently away. _ _

_ _“If you do not go right now, I shall haul you back into bed, and then we shall both starve.” _ _

_ _She went._ _


End file.
